them to take whatever
punishment their queen chose to mete out rather than to escape only to
be brought back to endure penalties immeasurably more terrible.

Yellow Rufe and Sancho were not minded to stay, however; they had
vanished; and Dolores's keen eyes noted this the moment she surveyed the
scene. She walked swiftly to the door of the council hall, turned to
face the mob, and lifted an arm for attention. Then fell a hush full of
anxiety or terror, according to the degree of culpability in the
consciousness of her audience.

"Summon every creature in the village," she cried, "and let no man or
woman dare to leave this place until ye hear my thoughts concerning this
day's work!"

Men scattered eagerly through the huts, calling by name all who were not
present in the crowd, and presently more of the community came out,
their faces mostly reflecting the terror that was in their souls; for
none might ever foretell the moods of their queen. Inscrutable as night,
her eyes were like pools of violet shadow wherein lurked promise or
threat of unimaginable things; every line of her face and form was a
line of a riddle that could prove in the solution either magnificent
generosity, fearless justice, or implacable vengeance: like the
lightning, Dolores struck where she willed, and in what fashion she
chose; it was useless to attempt avoidance.

Venner and his friends looked on curiously, a feeling akin to awe
pervading them at the increasing evidence before their eyes of the power
wielded by this splendid fury, they had yet to know. When all were
present, except those whose activities on the schooner had already
procured them a passport to another world, Dolores swept the crowd with
a penetrating glance and called for Milo, who appeared from the rear of
the council hall laden with chains and bilboes which he cast down at her
feet. Then the angry impatience of the disappointed sloop's crew proved
too intense, and Caliban bounded to the front, squealing shrilly:

"The fiend may take you with your irons! Shall we, men who followed Red
Jabez through a sea of blood, cower to a woman of such soft mettle?
Dolores, queen or woman or wench, it is for you, not us, to explain.
Lads--" he shrieked, flashing about and haranguing his companions--"back
me in this. We will know why the sloop lacked powder; why to-day's work
has brought no reward!"

The deformed little demon stepped back to the crowd, and paced to and
fro with feverish